


Gods of the Poppy

by EyesOfEnigma



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Arranged Marriages, F/M, Fluff, Making Out, Medium Burn, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Pining, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Romance, Spoilers, but not the bad variety, featuring Hera being annoying, it is just 20k words of fluff i dunno what to tell you guys, just woven right into the fabric of Hades the video game, poetically matched gods, romantic letter writing, the myth of Hypnos and Pasithea, very canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EyesOfEnigma/pseuds/EyesOfEnigma
Summary: The story of Hypnos, the god of sleep, and Pasithea, the Charity goddess of relaxation and hallucinations. An interpretation of how their odd love would blossom alongside the narrative of Hades the video game.
Relationships: Hypnos/Pasithea, background Zagreus/Thanatos
Comments: 30
Kudos: 55





	1. The Fourth Sister/Thanatos' Aid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes we just pick out the weird shit and cling to it. I’m not even into Hypnos, I just think he’s a sleepy lad who is probably more intelligent than people give him credit for. The myth of Pasithea and Hypnos was one of my favourites growing up. I just love the poetic dynamic.

Out of Zeus’ many illegitimate children, none were held in quite the same esteem and lightheartedness as the Charities. Daughters of the sea-woman Eurynome, they were minor goddesses with little influence compared to many of their fellow gods. Still, they were the mistresses of the most prized feelings and experiences among the mortals, and never overlooked for invitation to Olympus’ finest celebrations. Sharing favour from their half-brother, Dionysus, they were the bright engine of any social event amongst the gods. Most remembered them as the rosy-cheeked, fiery-haired trio of uninhibited joy, a spray of freckles like stars giving them a beauty beyond what most in the House of Aphrodite could boast of.

Yet they were not mere triplets. It was natural that out of the four close sisters, the three loudest would be at the forefront of minds. The maidens of grace: Aglaea, the goddess of splendor, with her intricate braids and fine threads, the jewel of any fine social circle, kept herself poised and keen in any situation; Euphrosyne, the goddess of mirth, a woman of charming grins and a chiming, crystalline laugh, sense of humour infectious and never once caught in a stiff manner; Thalia, the goddess of good cheer, with poetry and prose always ready on her darling lips, her dexterity in games and dance unparalleled, and her wit sharper than the bouncing short red curls on her head. But the fourth, vital to any good party and always remembered by Dionysus, was Pasithea. Written off as a wallflower by most, her smooth voice and mesmerizing air calmed anyone overwhelmed by the excitement of a loud gathering, easing the impending sobriety before the next round. Hers were words of calm understanding, careful thoughts, and sly, smart smiles.

Never let it be said that Pasithea was ungrateful for often being forgotten in favour of her sisters. She loved them, despite their teasing and playful mockery, and they were all safe under the House of Aphrodite. As the goddess of relaxation and hallucination, it was natural that she was slow to rage and even slower to hold a grudge. Rarely was she worshipped by mortals, but nothing brought her more peace than walking among them in disguise, relishing in their rare moments of soft contemplation or drugged spirituality. Those who remember would say that she was just a quiet maiden with an expression wiser than her apparent years, earnest to listen to whoever would speak to her. There was never an awkward silence with Pasithea; she was comfort itself.

It is only expected, then, that she and her sisters would work hard during war times. The Trojan War, legendary not only for the great feats and events but also for the scale of suffering it wrought, was a time when even the major gods feuded over the trifles of mortals. Like most gods, the Charities were banned from offering their help in the conflict, but that didn’t seem to stop the major gods. Once Zeus and Hera became involved, it was clear that this was no longer a simple scenario. While the Charities were part of the House of Aphrodite, they weren’t the kind of goddesses to take sides, and agreed to work in secrecy to keep the spirits high among the victims of war. They went their separate ways and vowed to hold their counsel if one of them was caught disobeying their immortal overlords. They feared even Aphrodite’s response, let alone the king and queen of Olympus.

Death is impartial during war. Chthonic gods almost never meddle in mortal affairs, as it is against their very nature. Hecate was known for helping those lost on their way, but even she was indifferent to sides of a conflict. The Underworld was working overtime to keep up with the destruction of the conflict above, to the point that Thanatos was rarely seen at the House of Hades. Even Hypnos dared not to take his narcoleptic breaks as best as he could manage them. The lord of the house was in a sour mood at all times, even in the presence of his beloved Persephone, who was still a relatively new queen. Despite this, her patience transcended the stress of the times, greatly encouraged by Nyx’s controlled and logical presence and power.

It was Thanatos’ reliance on the queen’s graciousness that prompted him to do something most unorthodox in the House of Hades. He knew Lord Hades would never approve, but with trust that his position and work ethic did its own vouching, Thanatos arranged for a minor goddess’ passage on the Styx.

Persephone had a rare moment to attend the grimly beautiful garden when the distinct sound of Thanatos materializing nearby had her nearly jump out of her skin. She immediately let out a nervous chuckle, turning to address him as she dusted her hands of the soil and steadying herself to stand. Her kind green eyes crinkled with a fond smile which quickly receded at her fellow god’s expression. Thanatos was naturally gloomy, but the line of his mouth was tight with a thick cloud of concern.

“Why, whatever is the matter, Thanatos?” Persephone rushed out, her brow knitting a little.

“Forgive me, my queen, I—” he stopped, appearing to mull over his thoughts for a heartbeat. “I come to ask for your help with a small matter.”

“Of course, anything. Within reason,” she replies, cracking a strained smile even in these circumstances.

“What I’m proposing will be quite unreasonable from Lord Hades’ perspective. That’s why I came to you first,” Thanatos admits, gold eyes flickering somewhat sheepishly towards the archway into the hall. The courtroom was hardly in view, and definitely out of earshot. “Charon is bringing a minor goddess here. She needed my help and— _ugh,_ this is such a mess—”

Persephone holds up her hands to steady his words. “Woah, now, slow down. Just explain this plainly to me. You know none on Olympus can know where I am.”

“I’ve already had her swear on the Styx not to tell anyone about your presence here,” Thanatos says gravely, making Persephone flinch a little. A vow on the Styx was mortally binding, even for immortals. “She’s been hurt by another god, and well, she’s…”

“A lover?” Persephone speculated.

Thanatos snaps to attention with wide eyes, adjusting his grip on his scythe. “No! No, she’s…as close as I have to a friend, I suppose. Like Megaera, a friendly colleague, of sorts. You lived on Olympus, so perhaps you met her. She’s a Charity.”

Persephone’s brows rose in recognition. “I was always close to my mother during social gatherings on Olympus, so I never had the privilege of meeting them formally, but I know who you mean. Which one?”

Thanatos still fidgeted. “Pasithea. She’s been working to ease the suffering of mortals before they pass on and makes my job much easier sometimes. Hermes is grateful for her help, too, as small as it is on the scale of this war. Ares found her and got angry—please convince Hades to let her lay low. I feel like…like I owe her, somehow.”

As if on queue, the ferryman Charon arrived on the Styx by the end of the garden, a small, lone figure in a dark cloak with the hood drawn over their head his only passenger. It was as though the goddess was trying to disguise herself as a shade. A meager attempt, as anyone aside from some unassuming spirits could clock her as what she really was just by her aura. Thanatos seemed to twitch at nothing, then sighed.

“I have to get back. Please, I’ll do whatever extra work Lord Hades asks of me, I just—”

Persephone nodded once. “Leave it to me.”

Thanatos bowed his head respectfully. “Thank you, my queen. Please excuse me.” He shifted away, a ghostly green imprint of his wings the only brief impression of his presence. Persephone turned to the boat once again to find Charon offering his hand to the goddess who stepped out onto the grass of the gothic garden. She appeared to be shaking, only softening Persephone’s heart even further. She felt something of a maternal instinct take over as the hooded woman drew apprehensively closer. Charon tipped his wide-brimmed hat to his queen before setting off to take care of more souls, though many taken by the ravages of war would be left on the banks of the Styx for many years to come.

“Goddess. Don’t be afraid,” Persephone encouraged, taking two slender, porcelain hands in her own. Only the woman’s nose and mouth were visible from the shadow of the hood, but she offered no smile nor frown. Instead, she seemed astonishingly calm, to the point that Persephone herself felt at ease even as she knew she would have to persuade Hades to allow all this. “You’ll be safe in the House of Hades for a time. Come with me.”

“Your Majesty’s generosity is most abundant,” Pasithea told her, voice feather-like and possessing a velvety timbre. Persephone blinked, almost captivated by the sound. Leave it to a Charity to be so fascinating. “I’m forever grateful to you and Thanatos, Highness.”

Persephone clicked her tongue in good nature. “None of that title nonsense; save it for my husband. You may call me Persephone.”

“As you say, Persephone,” Pasithea returned, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Yet still she trembled. 

The queen let go of her unexpected guest’s hands, gesturing to the archway into the hall. “Follow me.”

When they moved to walk in, she caught a glimpse of Pasithea’s chiton under her cloak: it was filthy at the base hem and terribly torn in some places, as if she had run through mud and tripped over herself. She was barefoot and her ankles were bruised, but she walked as if nothing at all was wrong. Though, as they passed into the threshold of the House of Hades, a soft but audible sigh passed through her pale chapped lips.

Hades was seated at his desk scribbling away at paperwork for the rapid influx of shades that the war brought, pausing to rub his black-and-red eyes and pinch the bridge of his nose in evident stress. As soon as his queen entered the room, he glanced over for the ease that she provided to his gaze, but his expression quickly hardened at the sight of a trespasser in his courtroom. He sighed deeply, casting his quill aside, and leaned back in his throne to watch the two women come astride his tall desk.

“Persephone…what is the meaning of this?” he hissed out, doing his best not to be harsh with her. It was difficult to conceal his displeasure with the stranger in his house, in his realm, without his permission.

“ _Husband,_ ” Persephone began, purposefully addressing him as such to invoke a more tender response, “let me preface by saying that this minor goddess has sworn on the Styx to keep her counsel regarding our… _circumstances._ ”

Hades’ voice came out as a low rumble of discomfort and resentment. “She’s from Olympus, is she? Who dared defy me and oversee such a vow?”

“You require context before I answer that,” Persephone replied, careful not to throw Thanatos under the chariot just yet. Pasithea was clever enough to not speak until spoken to, or perhaps she was simply too frightened in Hades’ intimidating presence. It was difficult to tell what emotions, if any at all, she was feeling in that moment. “She needs refuge from the war.”

Hades scoffed. “Why would a goddess need refuge from mortal affairs?”

“It’s not the mortals she is afraid of. It’s the other gods.”

“So, she meddled? She’ll reap what she sows up _there,_ not hide like a coward.”

Persephone huffed a little, appearing stern and placing herself squarely between her husband and her new charge. “I don’t know the full circumstances. Ares is angry at her for easing the suffering of the mortals. Those that become more calm shades when they arrive here—”

“Then it was Thanatos that asked you to hide her, hm? Did you ask him, goddess? Did you guilt him into it because you help him?” Hades accused, speaking directly to Pasithea, now. He’d raised his voice in anger enough that Hypnos awoke from his floating nap at the other side of the courtroom, now alert to the unusual goings-on. Nyx, too, took a place by her son to listen and observe silently, her dark air and countenance barely noticeable.

Persephone stepped aside to let the woman speak for herself and speak for herself she did. She was quiet, but not so much that it was hard to hear. Her words came out like a spool of silk thread, careful and tender. “Lord Uncle Hades, I thank you for not sending me away as soon as you saw me,” she began, drawing in breath as easily as a river flows downstream. “I did not compel Thanatos to help me. He took pity on me, and I don’t refuse help when it is graciously offered.”

Hades appeared to relax a bit by her words, but then scowled in realization. “You’re one of Zeus’, are you?”

Pasithea, for the first time, seemed to hesitate. “Pasithea, the youngest of the Charities, daughters of Eurynome. Yes, your brother Zeus is my father, but I know him no better than any other minor god or goddess.”

“Hm. Not surprising at all.” It may have been Persephone’s imagination, but Hades’ voice seemed to soften ever so slightly. “Don’t hide your face from me in my own courtroom, goddess. I’ll not be convinced to let you seek asylum in my home until I look you in the eye.”

Pasithea obliged, pulling off the hood of the dark cloak that Thanatos or Charon likely provided on her journey. Persephone sucked in a small gasp at the sight, and she heard Hypnos let out a tiny squeaking hiccup of fear from across the room. The goddess of relaxation was very much alike her sisters with her smouldering auburn hair and pretty, oval face, but her hair was untied and straight, all pulled over to one side of her shoulders, exposing the long marble column of her neck. What startled the queen so much were the still fresh, dark red cuts streaking diagonally across Pasithea’s forehead, cheek, and jaw. The swelling appeared to have already begun dying, an immortal’s healing already taking hold to repair her skin. Still, it was obvious that the wounds were still quite painful, but Pasithea looked up at her uncle with an unwavering, unchallenging gaze.

Hades, too, seemed rather taken aback by her appearance. “You—who—”

“I take it you’re reasonably familiar with your nephew’s temper,” Pasithea explained simply. “My half-brother Ares has no qualms about striking his own if it serves him. I’m hardly of consequence, and the war has left him quite high-strung. I’m only grateful that he has not found out my sisters just yet.”

Hades hummed in thought. Persephone knew that he was quite disturbed by this, though likely unsurprised. The war seemed to bring out the absolute worst in Olympus so far. “You had nowhere else to go?”

Pasithea shook her head. “Do you think my Lady Aphrodite would come between me and her lover? No,” she almost looked sad. “Thanatos found me as he was collecting souls. I didn’t ask. If it’s not charity you’re interested in—” her brows rose at the play on words— “I’m happy to help you calm your shades and allow your work to run more smoothly in exchange. By contract, if necessary.”

Hades exchanged a look with Persephone, then shook his head. “No, I’ve had enough parchment work to last my eternal lifetime. I’ll hold you on your word alone, but I will not tolerate disturbance. Conduct yourself as if you weren’t even here unless I, the queen, or Lady Nyx call on you.”

Pasithea bowed, deeply, but said nothing. Persephone soon ushered her away to clean her up and exchange her clothes. Nyx joined them to help heal Pasithea’s wound, which receded into a few stark silver scratches. It was then that Persephone could take in the goddess’ appearance unpolluted. Her expression was serene, almost pensive, and young. Her jaw was smooth, chin pointed, and a narrow nose was set between two owlish hazel eyes, blinking slowly. She was never afraid to look directly at the queen, regularly trapping her gaze in a silent, bewildering manner that left the verdure goddess suddenly snapping back to an attention she never realized was lost. In a clean, simple long chiton, Pasithea had a comely figure with narrow shoulders and wide hips, much softer than the very slender Nyx but clearly strong from walking long distances. Her freckles where like sea spray across her cheeks, shoulders, chest, and the backs of her arms. She continued to wear the dark cloak, perhaps attempting to blend in with the grim style of the Underworld.

“The scars will not remain, young one,” Nyx explained as she turned to leave. “I’ve done what I can to speed your healing, but now you need rest.”

“Thank you, Lady Night,” Pasithea said genuinely, offering a timid, gentle smile. It pulled at the corners of her small mouth only barely. Left alone with the queen in a small, finely furnished guest room, she began again: “I’ve never been nervous before.”

Persephone blinked up in surprise. “Never? Truly? I’m astonished.”

“I’ve been…uncomfortable before. Concerned, sometimes. Never _nervous._ Not as I am now. I’m not certain I could rest as Lady Night suggests.”

“You’ve had quite a shock,” Persephone sighs, nodding in understanding. “Perhaps this is an occasion for Nyx’s other son. Let me send him to you, and you can finally, uh, _relax._ Without me fretting about you.”

Pasithea smiles again, a little easier this time, and nods her agreement. She’s left alone for only a few minutes, startled only by the arrival of Thanatos, not his twin Hypnos as she’d come to expect. Seeing a more familiar face, though they weren’t terribly friendly, was a relief. He seemed pleased to see her in a much better state.

“Glad you’re settled,” he remarked.

“My uncle does not seem to be angry with you,” Pasithea returned, folding her fingers together in her lap and inclining her head. “I’m sorry this may have caused your position some jeopardy.”

He shook his head. “No, it was never in jeopardy. I offered, with every intention of following through. You’re probably one of very few people I would do this for.”

“I’m honoured.”

“Honour it by getting well again,” Thanatos rebutted, quickly disappearing without another word.

Just then, a soft knock. “Come in,” Pasithea received, watching every movement carefully.

A head of soft, curly white hair peeked out from the crack behind the door. Judging by its position, its owner was floating some inches off the ground. Hypnos was ghostly skinned, but in a manner very different from his twin. It was an almost deathly quality of pale, like a frozen mortal, which Pasithea supposed was most appropriate for this place. The Underworld didn’t put her off like it would other gods, but she wasn’t oblivious to the very different aesthetic of things there. Still, Hypnos was far from the monotoned Thanatos, a wide smile and drowsy golden eyes greeting her as he entered at her behest.

“Heard you had one hell of a day,” he exclaimed in a sing-song tone, his voice high and cheerful. Coming into the room fully, Pasithea regarded his warm red robes and the plush blanket that acted as a cape. A red sleeping mask matching his robes was strapped to his head amongst the short cloud-like curls of his hair. He may have seemed the dopey fool, but he looked at her carefully before continuing: “You seem to be doing much better.”

“Thanks to your mother, yes.”

“Oh yeah, mom’s great, isn’t she? Though I suppose Queen Persephone was super nice to you, too,” he thought aloud, words a mile a minute. It reminded her a little of Hermes, though no one could match his quick mouth. Hypnos paused to see if she would say anything, but Pasithea was content to just listen. “So! She said you were having a hard time relaxing?”

Pasithea laughed for the first time in what felt like ages. It was willowy and short, but it was there, a blooming warmth in her spirit she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. “Oh, no, I’ve got no trouble relaxing. I suppose I’m out of sorts, but not that bad.”

Hypnos’ face drew in a little bit of colour of embarrassment. “Heh, right! I guess the goddess of relaxation wouldn’t have any trouble with that but, um, yeah! I can help you sleep for sure. ‘Cause, you know, god of sleep!”

Pasithea nodded, simply watching him with her large hazel eyes. Hypnos was handsome, sure, but the childish grin he sported was somewhat amusing to her. “Thank you.” The bed she was provided with was comfortable and warm, despite the eerie green glow of Tartarus from outside the tall, narrow window. As she climbed under the covers, Hypnos moved to tuck her in rather informally, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Perhaps for him, it was. He was still smiling, but this time without showing any white teeth, and floated above the floor in a lounging position. The edges of his blanket-cloak curled with an ethereal force as he propped his head up on his elbows by the edge of the bed.

“So, how does this work?” Pasithea asked, settling her hips into the firm mattress and working her hair back around to one side. It spilled in a mixture of red, gold, and brown threads over her shoulder, something that Hypnos seemed to take notice of with his half-lidded gold eyes. “Will you put me under a spell?”

He seemed to detect her jest. “Ha! No, nothing like that. Unless you really want me too, I can definitely do that, but I think you’ll benefit more from falling asleep on your own. I’m just here to make that a little easier.”

Pasithea pulled the covers up to her chin, blinking at him curiously. “Shame I can’t tell my sisters about all this. The Underworld is a very interesting place.”

He hummed, the high tenor of his voice giving her the impression of a hummingbird, for some reason. “Did you swear not to tell them at all? Or just not tell them about Queen Persephone?”

She paused in thought. “The latter. I suppose I can tell them some. They’ll tease that this was the only way I could end up in bed with a man,” she mused.

Hypnos flushed at her words, his smile warbling with embarrassment for a moment. “Heh, they tease you a lot? Than is just kinda hard on me. I mean, I guess that’s good, he has high expectations, right?”

“Thalia likes to tease the most, and Euphrosyne finds most things funny,” Pasithea explained with fondness. “I’m unflappable, so they know they can prod me all they like, and I won’t get mad.”

“You’re like me, I can’t remember the last time I was mad!” Hypnos chirped, though not so loud that it would disturb the feeling of peace they both had begun to cultivate with their respective power. “Lots of gods seem to get mad so easily, but I guess mortals don’t really pay much attention to me until they’ve got insomnia. Do you get many offerings?”

Pasithea shook her head against the pillow, her limbs feeling a little heavy as the fatigue of recent events set in. “Not often. My sisters do, during peacetime mostly. They’re always drawn and engraved together…I suppose mortals like the number three. But sometimes, I get a little shrine made for me. They like to give me lavender and poppies.”

He perked up at that, his head lifting above his palms before returning to lean against just the one, his cheek squishing into the heel of his hand. “Poppies, huh? Mortals like to give me those, too. Silly, really; I have plenty at home.” He yawned, eyes tearing up a little, and Pasithea smiled fondly at that. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be dozing when you’re the one who needs sleep so bad. You’re just so relaxing to be around, heheh!”

“A dangerous feedback loop,” Pasithea remarked, her blinking becoming slower and heavier. “I hope I’m not keeping you from important work.”

“Oh, I’ll catch up,” he dismisses casually. “Lord Hades doesn’t know what to do without me, but helping you out is more important right now.”

She said nothing, a small smile still soft on her face as she closed her eyes, certain she was just resting her gaze. The ache from the day dulled into the back of her mind, and she wondered if her sisters were safe. She missed Thalia’s lyre playing, but the sound of Hypnos’ prattling was oddly comforting, in its own way, even as she drifted off away from immortal wakefulness. She was only conscious enough to register Hypnos mutter a ‘sweet dreams’ to her as if it were something one said in farewell.


	2. Friends at First Sight/Sensation of Sleep

There was no daybreak in the Underworld to rise to, no manner in which to tell the passage of time. For immortals, perhaps it did not matter, but as Pasithea came around in an environment entirely foreign to her, she wondered if her sisters were terribly worried. Perhaps they had not heard of what Ares had done to her at all. She’d never got along with the war god despite being half-siblings, but relations on Olympus didn’t seem to mean much. He wasn’t the only one who would attack a fellow god, but she still never expected him to be as angry as he was.

It was interesting. Aside from Lord Hades’ rough demeanor, the Underworld was positively charming in comparison. The Charities were treated well in the House of Aphrodite, but during times such as these, the Underworld was disturbingly normal. If anything, they just seemed tired from the shade traffic. Even Nyx, one of the most terrifyingly beautiful and powerful beings in existence, had treated her with tolerance and what was very close to kindness. Persephone, of course, was radiant and filled with compassion, Charon, as polite as he was unreadable, and Hypnos was disproportionately cheerful. He actually reminded her very much of her sister Thalia, but Thalia was more charismatic in her delivery.

Pasithea lifted herself out of bed and stretched, determined to shake the drowsiness of one of Hypnos’ trances. She eyed her reflection in the dark window nearby; her wound had indeed completely healed over, not even leaving a scratch. She breathed in deeply, wrapping the dark cloak Charon had given her around her shoulders and tying the tiny, loose fastenings closed at the front. It didn’t exactly fit her, but it fit the house and its residents, and the gold thread embroidering the seams was quite lovely against the wine-dark fabric.

All halls lead to the courtroom eventually. She drew her hood up, attempting to look as inconspicuous as possible and not draw attention from the passing shades. Some were new arrivals, finding their loved ones or discussing their lives as they waited for an audience with their king. Remembering that Hades wanted no disturbances unless called for, Pasithea wondered if she should seek out Persephone in order to offer her services in whatever the house needed from her.

She accidently passed right through a shade. Odd, since she distinctly remembered that shades could interact with objects and each other. Perhaps they chose when to shift away from physical reality. Still, she startled at the movement and blinked in surprise.

“Hey! Watch where you’re going!” cried the spectre of a tall man. Before Pasithea could apologize, his eyes widened behind his shallow hood and he bowed to her. “Oh, forgive me, goddess. I-I didn’t realize—”

“No, that’s alright,” Pasithea soothed, observing how some other shades were drawn in by the attention. “I should’ve have watched where I was going, indeed. Please, return to your—”

“Goddess? I don’t know who she is,” remarked another shade standing next to him.

“A minor goddess, clearly,” a third sighed, uninterested.

Pasithea turned and carried on, not particularly concerned with the gossip of spirits. As she passed into the court, hearings were being performed, and so she tucked herself by the archway and waited silently. Her cloak shifted with a warm gust of air enveloping her from behind, sending a shiver up her spine. The hell hound of what was once mere fable to her was lying by his master’s throne, all three heads sniffing at the new guest in curiosity. Pasithea pulled her hood away to formally introduce herself to the creature, bowing slightly in respect.

“You must be Cerberus. I’m Pasithea,” she said, careful to keep still as his far-left head took the greatest interest in her.

“Mind yourself around my loyal dog, there, goddess,” Hades rumbled from above at his desk, a thick-browed look watching scornfully. She merely nodded. “Go stand by Hypnos and keep my shades level-headed. I’ll decide when you have paid your dues for staying here.”

Pasithea obeyed immediately and without another word, already familiar with how Hades would rather her not speak up unless necessary. Hypnos was floating a few feet off the ground, his blanket-cloak wrapped comfortably around his shoulders as he slept in a half-curled position. He was still clutching his quill in one hand as his small stack of parchment paper pinned to a board sat in his lap. Pasithea found it interesting how most of the Chthonic gods were barefoot, like Hades and the twins, while those who were surface born generally wore sandals and boots. Though, she supposed if she had feet like hot embers or had no need to walk, perhaps she would go barefoot more often as well. The Underworld accent was something she was already familiar with thanks to having a few sparse conversations with Thanatos before all this came to pass.

The line of shades come for a hearing drifted along without any resistance, but when one parked themselves right in front of the sleeping god, waiting wordlessly, Pasithea started to catch on. She gently pulled on the corner of Hypnos’ bright red robes, but it was hard enough to startle him awake.

“ _snnr—Huh?_ Oh, right!” Hypnos chirped, checking something on his list and waving the shade along with a shining, “Happy to have ya!” The spirit resumed its business by drifting into the house, and Hypnos finally took notice of his silent companion. “Ah, Pasithea! Why, I didn’t even notice you there. Heh. Did you sleep well? What am I saying, of course you did! It was thanks to me, so you had to have slept well.”

“Hypnos,” Lord Hades growled lowly in a scolding tone. “You will not talk the ear off our guest while she has agreed to work. Next in the line may come forward.”

“Right, sorry!” Hypnos shouted across the hall, though he hardly sounded remorseful.

“To answer your question,” Pasithea offered lightly, keeping her voice down so it would not interrupt Hades’ proceedings, “I slept very well. I’m not even certain how much time has gone by.”

“Ha, neither am I, but don’t worry. I’m certain it wasn’t super long. Say, I think you’re relaxing the shades already! Look, that one over there stopped crying.”

It wasn’t just that they were calmer, almost every shade in the house had moved closer to her in one way or another, even if they were still in their own little social circles. “Mortals tend to do that around me.”

“Must be nice to be so popular!” Hypnos remarked, embellishing the corners of his parchment work with his quill. It really was quite a lovely design, and Pasithea found herself tracing the lines with her eyes as he made them. His fingers were long and slender like the rest of him, but he had a surprising intricate dexterity.

She merely shrugged. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“It’s not just the mortals, you know. I feel relaxed already and you’ve only been here for…well, however long you’ve been standing there.”

She offered a wry smile. “You’re always relaxed.”

“That’s not true! I get nervous all the time, it’s just nothing a little snooze can’t fix.” Another shade had presented themselves in front of him, but his head was still turned towards her with that goofy grin. Pasithea gestured to the fallen mortal, redirecting the sleep god’s attention to the task at hand. “Ah, thanks!” He scribbled something else on the page and the shade took their place.

Hades eyed them from across the court between hearings, scratching his beard as Pasithea continued to humour Hypnos and watch out for things that he should address. If she could at least keep Hypnos from falling asleep on the job, then all was good. Persephone returned to the court from the garden shortly after, patting Cerberus’ favourable head and watching the two gods converse softly not far off. Pasithea’s tender voice had even compelled Hypnos to speak to her in more hushed tones. Persephone and Hades shared a little knowing glance but said nothing on the matter.

“Perhaps dreams are akin to hallucinations,” Pasithea supposed. “I’ve more occasion to experience the latter, to be perfectly honest.”

Hypnos’ smile disappeared, his mouth now somewhat pulled to the side in disbelief and shock. “Whaaaaat?! You don’t dream much? But that’s the best part!”

“Sleep is rather uneventful for me,” she admitted freely, drawing her cloak around her shoulders more tightly in a self-comforting gesture. “Perhaps that will change if I sleep more around you.”

“ _Ooooo,_ nap session! Once this pesky war is over, we should take a load off and get some fluffy quilts and—” Hypnos trailed off for some time, planning this snoozing social outing for a non-inconsequential number of minutes, only interrupted by Pasithea’s gentle announcement of passing shades. “Too bad Than is never much for slowing down and taking it easy once in a while. Always saying that work comes first, and I suppose he’s right, but I barely even talk to him anymore. It’s nice to finally have someone around who really _gets_ it, y’know?”

“I have the rare privilege of having leisure be my work,” Pasithea replied simply, combing her fingers through her long auburn hair and giving him a small, easy smile.

“Well, sure, but you still went out of your way and got hurt by Ares for it, right? The last time I messed with the gods on Olympus, Mom had to hide me from Zeus, or I would’ve been a goner for sure! Never doing that again…” For the first time, Hypnos seemed genuinely upset by his own recollection. His smirk faded and his half-lidded gaze looked away from her, before returning quickly with a cheerful disposition all over again. “Glad that’s behind me! Have I said too much?”

Some might be unnerved by his word vomit, especially after that not-so-confidence-inspiring retelling of his own experiences with vexing Olympian gods. Pasithea, on the other hand, appreciated his odd form of candour and recognized that there was more beneath the surface of what most would disregard as vapid patronizing. “I like listening to you.”

“Really? Wow, I think you’re the first person to say that to me out loud? I figure someone around here must like it a little because otherwise Lord Hades would’ve kicked me out a long time ago, heheh!”

This time Lord Hades managed to catch what he was saying and grumbled from his desk: “Keep up the yapping and it’ll become much more likely.”

Hypnos feigned a dramatic flinch, his grin becoming more mischievous as his and Pasithea’s eyes met. She split a cunning smile in return, and they fell silent in their shared revelry. The whisper of Persephone saying ‘oh, leave them be, Hades’ was barely audible, but it only had the two of them holding in snickers. For once, Pasithea felt like her sister Euphrosyne, nearly bursting with mirth.

When the time came for the goddess of relaxation to depart from the Underworld, she went to every god in the house to give her thanks and appreciation for hosting her. To Persephone and Nyx in particular, she made certain to ask if there was anything they needed or wanted on the surface to send along through Hermes, but they both politely declined the offer. Her uncle was characteristically dismissive about her departure but did appreciate her contribution to keeping his shades in a peaceful order about the house.

The last to receive her goodbyes was Hypnos. They’d spent most of her short time there working together, and she could admit to growing a fondness for him. It hurt more than she expected to go. She found him sleeping on the job during a moment with comparatively less souls than usual about the court, hovering above the floor wrapped up in his quilt-cape cocoon as usual. When she padded up to him, he peeled a cautious eye open on reflex to the sound, then bolted upright sharply, scrambling to catch hold of his clipboard and quill before they fell. It was one of the rare moments that his bare arms were visible from behind his cloak, which he usually kept drawn quite close over his shoulders. His mismatched gold armbands only served to accentuate his lanky figure.

“Ah! I’m up!” Hypnos insisted on instinct, giving a perky smile at who it was that approached him. “Pasithea, what can I do for you?” He leaned forward a bit, propping up his head on his hand, his elbow on nothing as he floated.

“Charon will arrive shortly on the river to take me back to the surface. My work in the war must continue,” she explained. “I just came to say goodbye, and to thank you for being such good company.”

Hypnos gave a pregnant pause and a look of concern. “Are you certain you _want_ to go back?”

Pasithea shrugged. “I don’t have much of a choice. I can’t stay here forever, and I can’t be up there for long without wanting to help. It may not be my place to meddle, but…I’m compelled quite strongly.”

For once, a grim smile of struggling understanding. There was a lot one could discern about Hypnos by the _way_ he smiled. “If you say so. Come back for our napping party, remember?” he offered brightly.

She laughed softly. “If Lord Hades allows me back into his realm, I’d like nothing less. You’ve raised my expectations now, so it’ll have to be the epitome of naps.”

“If there’s one being on Earth or below it that can provide that, it’s me,” Hypnos returned with glowing self-confidence. She didn’t doubt him one bit. “Please don’t get killed by Ares or someone else.”

“How could I when I’ve got all those dreams I need to catch up on?” Pasithea mused, turning to leave down the hall towards the garden. Hypnos watched her go, then let out a wistful, high-toned sigh. He knew that Lord Hades probably wouldn’t let her back into the Underworld. Maybe he could’ve persuaded her to stay somehow, but that would have been even more suspicious than Persephone going missing from Olympus. Besides, even in all her tranquility and ease, it was obvious that she was determined to see this through, the other gods be damned. He thought back on how he’d run to the protection of his mother when Zeus threatened him and wondered how someone like Pasithea could be so different from him even as they were so alike in their divine respects.

So, Hypnos went back to smiling as he usually did, his chipper voice ringing throughout Lord Hades’ courtroom as he watched the Pool of Styx. What would have been a week on the surface went by, when Thanatos appeared before him in a ghostly glow, holding a small bit of parchment. It was folded in thirds and sealed with a button of beeswax. When Hypnos hesitated at the unexpected letter, his twin merely pushed it further towards him impatiently.

“Take it. Hermes wanted me to pass this on to you.” With that, Thanatos was gone.

“But…I didn’t…” Hypnos muttered to himself, turning the note over to find it was, in fact addressed to him in a narrow-lettered, neat hand of black ink. _Hypnos, Chthonic God of Sleep._ He grinned broadly at how official that sounded. Could it be an invitation to some exclusive godly event? But surely it would come on more fancy paper and not the very common means of this letter. He peeled open the seal, brows rising at the realization of what this was.

_Hypnos_

_I hope this isn’t terribly informal of me. After finding that I greatly value our still new friendship, I decided to make an effort to exchange letters for the time being. Do you find this agreeable? I hope you are well—I am pleased to say that my sisters did not attract the attention of our half-brother, Ares, as he now has much larger dilemmas to occupy himself with. I still remain alert to anyone suspecting my meddling in the war. During my stay in the House of Hades I noticed that you have most excellent penmanship skills. Perhaps it is selfish of me to want to see that on a regular basis. I look forward to your reply, and please give my regards to all at the house._

_Pasithea_

Hypnos could hardly believe what he was reading. Then he got to work writing his reply as quickly as his shift was over. He delighted in decorating the edges of the message with mini-illustrations and elegant embellishment, then writing his thoughts about the recent goings-on about the house as if they’d been corresponding for years. Thanatos didn’t ask questions when Hypnos asked him or Charon to pass on letter after letter addressed _Pasithea, Charity and Goddess of Relaxation_ with a simplified illustration of a poppy flower next to her name. It was better that no one asked any questions at all, since her stay at the House of Hades was strictly off-record.

While Pasithea’s letters tended to be short and formally worded, she regularly discussed mortal matters, her bewilderment with human nature, and trails of speculative but organized thought. Hypnos, on the other hand, at times went on for a few pages describing completely unnecessary details, but Pasithea looked forward to those words the most. She could picture it as if she were there, and for a small moment as she rested against a landscape of war, she was back at the House of Hades, soaking in his abstract musings and sharing whispered laughter. She became nostalgic for what was only a blink on the scale of an immortal’s life, for a time that wasn’t terribly far in the past.

If Pasithea had the chance to sleep, she would, and if she dreamed, she would tell Hypnos about them. In the mortal months after they had first met, she’d only dreamed twice, and both she described in great detail. It was of considerable interest for both of them, as Hypnos was entirely fascinated by others’ dreams and Pasithea was occupied by their connection to a hallucination experience. The first of her dreams was a nightmare about the war, and Ares striking her. While unpleasant, she was always calm, and appreciated Hypnos’ expertise regarding how the stressed mind of a relaxation goddess would process what she was experiencing.

The second dream was his favourite, as she recalled a vision of them having that napping party they talked about, and how it is a thought she regularly draws up when trying to inspire herself and her powers. He repeatedly read the line, _the sense of contentment at a completely unnecessary need filled, the same sense I wake to when I have the chance to rest, is an unparalleled impression of tranquility that motivates my every divine effort, and at last, I seem to understand why it is that you are so pleased even after interrupted from a snooze._ He’d actually laughed aloud while reading it, catching the ire of Lord Hades’ judgemental eye.

Regardless of their respective dispositions, they were not immune to personal fallbacks and eventually voiced their worries. Hypnos felt strange as his mother continually distanced herself from him, but he understood that she was spurring him on to independence the only way that she knew how. He wondered about the children of hers he’d never met, his other siblings, but then decided that it was probably better not to know much at all about them.

Pasithea mostly discussed matters of the war, especially as it was her personal mission to steady soldier’s nerves and ease pain as best as she was able. What got Hypnos’ attention the most, however, was how she feared the influence of the major gods. She felt generally quite safe under the protection of the House of Aphrodite, and by association, Hephaestus, but being an illegitimate daughter of Zeus presented its problems. The patriarch of the Olympians had a bad habit of trading off maiden goddesses in his domain to sweeten deals and appease rivals. She had considered joining Artemis’ hunting party to avoid being forced into an arranged marriage but hadn’t had the heart to make the vow.

To say it distressed him would be an understatement. It ate at him. Hypnos was socially oblivious, mostly, and many would consider him a fool in several respects. But when it came to simpler, emotion-based matters, he was as aware as any other. More so, arguably. From the outside, nothing had changed, but his smiles didn’t stretch quite as wide, and his voice wasn’t entirely its singing self. Persephone had begun to notice but didn’t consider it her place to prod him until it became more evident. Nyx, of course, was very aware that something was amiss with her child, but said nothing, preferring to allow him to work through it.

Hypnos couldn’t bear the thought of Pasithea, possibly his closest friend on Earth and below it, being forced to marry another god who would very likely just consort with others behind her back. For some gods, it was a consensual arrangement that suited all parties, as many mortals did, but he couldn’t imagine it for her. Then it struck him. Looking forward to every message, rereading the letters, this mixture of jealousy and concern at the thought of her being with anyone else in that way—it all fell into place. He’d always thought it was so strange that other gods could fall in love on sight. That hadn’t been the case for him but meeting her had been a short period of time. Meeting her—sure, she was beautiful, but it was the letters that eventually drew him in. And now she’d likely never be permitted into the House of Hades again. Now her tiny smiles, her sweet and almost melancholic voice, her big hazel eyes, her freckles, the slope of her neck, the way she pulled her cloak in towards herself: it was all out of reach.

He was in love. And there was nothing he could do about it.


	3. Hera's Bargain/Hypnos' Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Hypnos is cleverer than he lets on. It's sort of hinted at in his dialogue.

Hades didn’t want Hera in his house. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her ever again, in all honesty, but with how the war had affected Olympus, he didn’t want anyone to lose it and decide to declare war on the Underworld, as well. Persephone had to stay out of sight, but she didn’t want to be anywhere near Hera, either. Hades humoured his sister-in-law, on one very strict condition: don’t drag the Chthonic gods into your petty feuds. So of course, Hera had to go right ahead and ignore that.

It was only to speak to Hypnos, she insisted. Surely, he wouldn’t be missed for a short while, would he? And this was after nit-picking the condition of the house. The only one who could seem to shut her up was Nyx, the fearsomely powerful primordial and one of few forces of nature that Hera feared. Hypnos was chipper and welcoming to a borderline disrespectful degree, and Hades wondered if the dozing sleep god was actually very aware of how much his king was pissed about the situation. The just-barely polite jabs disguised in flowery, ignorant language was just enough to keep Hera from assuming the worst about the wistful floating immortal.

“Lady Hera, I said it before and I’ll say it again, I’m not helping you trick Zeus a second time,” Hypnos sighed, keeping his amused air even as he was exasperated by her insistence. Hera was used to getting what she wanted, or making it happen herself.

“It’s not a _trick,_ ” the matriarch smoothed over, adjusting the peacock feathers woven into her swirling bun of braided hair. “I just need you to put him to sleep once he is distracted. I’ll be doing most of the work. You’re just the bit at the end. In and out, he probably won’t even know it was you.”

Hypnos gave her an incredulous glance but kept on grinning. “Heh. Yeah, most gods would know it was me if they suddenly woke up to find that the war they have a stake in has completely changed course. The answer is no, though, thanks for stopping by! Hope you had an enjoyable stay.”

“But—”

Hades’ voice was booming now, across the courtroom, and Nyx had begun to glare. “You’ll not persecute those in my employ in my own house like that, Hera. If he said no, that’s the end of it.”

“Perhaps a deal? I could really sweeten the pot for you,” she continued, forcing a pleasant tone. Hypnos didn’t mind the surface world’s accent, as Lord Hades and Queen Persephone both had it (not to mention Pasithea), but for some reason the way it worked with Hera’s voice was seriously starting to grate on him.

One of Hypnos’ brows rose with both interest and disbelief, his smirk now fully smug. “It’ll have to be very sweet. I won’t have Mother to help hide me this time.”

“My son Hephaestus can craft any material thing you could desire—”

“I’m a bit of a minimalist, to be honest.” He drew himself into the comforting envelop of his quilted cloak for emphasis. “Try again.”

“Perhaps something from my own expertise? A wife.”

Hypnos almost choked. He glanced at Hades, who was clearly fuming. Arranged marriages were definitely a sore spot for the king and queen of the Underworld. Hypnos felt a wave of guilt wash over him as the first thought he had was of Pasithea. The one thing he couldn’t stand for her to suffer, he was imagining for himself. _Coward._

Hera stroked his cheek to turn his attention back to her. “Don’t look to your master; this is between you and me. I see that my proposition seemed to interest you.”

Hypnos wasn’t smiling anymore. He was chewing the inside of his cheek. The combined gazes of Nyx and Hades were practically burning right through him. But he wasn’t thinking about himself. If Hera sanctioned a marriage between himself and Pasithea, no one would dare cross her. He could keep his beloved friend in betrothal indefinitely for her protection, leaving her free to love whoever she wanted. Yes. This was worth risking the wrath of Zeus. He wasn’t an idiot, Hera would love the poetic twist to it all, since Pasithea was technically an illegitimate child of her husband. Additionally, Pasithea was part of the House of Aphrodite, who was favouring the opposite side of the war to Hera.

“Pasithea,” Hypnos offered meekly, keeping his head low in shame. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, wishing for this whole uncomfortable affair to be over so he could take a nap.

Hera’s eyes narrowed deviously. “The youngest Charity…I have to admit, it’s a good match. I almost wish I’d come up with it myself. Very well. I approve. Consider yourself betrothed, and I’ll send along the details to Aphrodite that one of hers will someday change houses. Do we have a deal? You’ll come when I send for you.”

“I’m at your command, Lady Hera,” Hypnos offered begrudgingly. The goddess nodded and turned to leave via Charon’s boat.

No sooner was she out of earshot did Hades’ wrathful shouting come down upon his court official. “You _fool!_ You would have that goddess, that _girl_ —”

He was cut off by Nyx, who glided over to her son with a terrifying, critical eye. “My child, why would you do this terrible thing, to have a goddess be your wife without her consent? Did I not teach you better than that?”

It hurt, that was for certain, but Hypnos quickly leapt to his own defense, and a compelling defense it was. He put up his hands in a gesture of surrender and couldn’t help but give a nervous smile to break the tension. “I don’t actually plan to marry her.” He was met with thoroughly confused looks, prompting a long sigh from him. “Look, Pasithea’s my friend. She was worried that Zeus was going to trade her or one of her sisters off for a favour from another god. I can’t do much about her sisters, but…well, Hera gave me the opportunity to keep her safe, essentially.”

“You intend to keep her locked in betrothal so she may live a free life?” Persephone butted in, standing by the opposite entrance of the courtroom that Hera left by now that it was safe for her to emerge. She must’ve just caught the conversation as she returned. “I have to admit, it’s rather clever.”

“Heh. Gee, thanks, Your Majesty.”

“But if Hera figures it out, you’ll have them both coming after you.”

Hypnos shrugged, despite that very real and very frightening possibility. “If she does. Maybe once the war is over, they’ll forget all about it.”

He was always the type to worry about tomorrow’s worries tomorrow. Maybe that would work out better if he could actually tell the passage of days. Regardless, he wrote to Pasithea nearly immediately to explain what had happened and reassuring her that he only had her interest at heart. She quickly replied, actually thankful for the arrangement, and happy that she could have such a trustworthy friend to think to protect her in such a way. She was, however, rather concerned about Hypnos, since this meant that he couldn’t marry someone he loved. Although, she extended the same courtesy he did: he was free to love whomever he liked. _We’re responsible for looking out for each other, now._ His heart ached at her words.

Hera’s idea went completely according to plan, and after putting the king of Olympus to sleep, Hypnos made himself as scarce as possible. There was no way in hell he was going to let Zeus nearly catch him again. The war raged on regardless, and he wondered if what he had done was any help at all. Did it shorten, or lengthen, due to putting his two obols in? Would Pasithea have to wander the Earth among the mortals, calming their spirits for years to come? He wished he had some way to locate her, to physically see if she was alright.

He returned to his place in Hades’ court, a wide, toothy smile for any passing shade or immortal, as the letters kept coming. They wouldn’t lay eyes on one another for decades.


	4. Love Letters/The Party

The Trojan War ended, and suddenly there wasn’t nearly so much work in the Underworld. It was still fretfully busy, as death waited for no one, including for the immortals that kept watch over the shades. Not quite so many were left on the shores of the river, but peacetime meant that Thanatos was out more, collecting the souls that perished by more calm means. Pasithea wrote to Hypnos about the celebrations she and her sisters attended, not only on Olympus but among mortals. It was only natural that they would spread their happy influence as much as they could now that the conflict had finally ended. She and Ares had made up, as well; she was surprised that he actually apologized to her for taking his bloodlust too far. The war had made him a much more polite god, as it turned out.

For the most part, Hypnos was somewhat oblivious to the goings on about the house as he continued to work, fall asleep, and read Pasithea’s letters. He paid more attention than people assumed, but lost amongst the years was the arrival of Achilles as the guard of the house, Persephone disappearing (he always wondered why he suddenly stopped seeing her), and eventually, the birth and growth of Zagreus, another half-sibling. The boy was never much of one for sleep and seemed more interested in spending time with Achilles or Thanatos, when the death god was actually around. Hypnos was under strict orders from his twin to never mention the prince in his letter writing, which he initially agreed to cheerfully, but later found out was rather difficult to omit.

Pasithea more than made up for it with her descriptions of her sister’s exploits and her regular association with mortals. She was delighted anytime they found another psychedelic plant or fungus and saw it as her responsibility to instruct them in their proper use. On occasion, she would even illustrate random things she found interesting throughout her travels, though confessed her skills were no where near on the level of Hypnos’. She began signing her letters as _Thea_ , and Hypnos decided he liked that very much. A foreign warmth would spread in his body when she mentioned how much she wanted to see him, but no surface gods were permitted in the Underworld, and he couldn’t visit her on the surface without drawing suspicion or neglecting the strict work schedule Lord Hades laid out for him.

_Don’t worry about me,_ he replied in his next note, the lettering delicate and flourished. Pasithea found herself smiling fondly at the words as she read in the corner of Aphrodite’s bedchambers. _I’m just fine right where I am, and as long as you’re safe where you are, everything’s exactly as we planned!_

She shook her head thoughtlessly, marvelling at how he could glance over the fact that she admitted she simply _missed him._ It was rare for her to experience kinship with another god, let alone a male one. Most of her life she had her closest bonds with women like her mother or her sisters. Even they seemed set apart, however. Her fingers traced over the drawing of a poppy flower next to her name on the parchment envelope that Hypnos always put there. Comparing the letters, it was a little bit different every time, but each was beautiful and cared for in its own way.

“You’re sighing an awful lot, dearest,” Aphrodite remarked in a pleased tone from across the room. She was seated at her mirrored vanity, Aglaea standing behind her to intricately braid her pink hair. The love goddess had somewhere important to be tonight. She enjoyed having Pasithea’s ease around the house to relax everyone and keep them in a more blissful state but found it especially beneficial to have the minor goddess near her before a crucial engagement.

“Sighing is Thea’s thing,” the elder Charity explained with a smile in her voice. The other two sisters, lounging on the daybed together at the other side of the room, perked up a little at the beginnings of conversation.

Aphrodite hummed, her glinting eyes sliding to catch Pasithea’s in the reflection of the mirror. She leaned forward to place her head in her hand, posture almost playful. “No, I mean more than usual. And that one wasn’t a sigh of contentment, it was one of wistful thoughts. Let me guess, love letter from your betrothed?”

“Ah, yes, the elusive god of sleep, right, Thea?”

Pasithea folded the most recent letter up and tucked it into the pockets sown into the sides of her long chiton. She missed that Chthonic cloak Charon gave her all those years ago. “That’s right. And yes, Lady Aphrodite, the letter is from him.”

Aphrodite practically beamed. “I thought so! It’s so adorable, darling, to see your love for him grow from afar. Whyever have you not gotten married yet?”

“Yes, it’s been years, hasn’t it?” Euphrosyne added.

Thalia rolled her eyes. “She’s not allowed, remember? Lord _Grouch_ of the Underworld won’t let her.” Euphrosyne snorted in laughter at the blasphemous title for the King of the Dead.

“Lord Hades does not permit any immortal from the surface into his house, not even through the transfer of marriage,” Pasithea replied quickly, careful to smooth over the inquiry into the charade. Still, it warmed her face to hear Aphrodite assume they were in love. Surely, she was mistaken. Blinded by the context of their betrothal, perhaps. No, Pasithea did not love Hypnos. Fond of him, certainly. Amused by him, his letters of fanciful thought and detail cherished by her? Sure. But she was not in love. She was certain she would know.

“Such a shame, really. It’s a once in an age occurrence to love your arranged fiancé. And I would know,” Aphrodite said sadly. “I’m sure it will work out in the end. Hades has to come around eventually.”

“Perhaps,” Pasithea muttered, considering that carefully. What if Hades _does_ decide to let her into the Underworld? What then? Considering her understanding with Hypnos, nothing would really change between them, aside from her moving to the House of Hades. She was no Chthonic god, but she could split her responsibilities between the living mortals and the shades. Still visit her sisters. And she’d get to see Hypnos all the while.

“Don’t be terribly sad, Thea,” Thalia pouted. “You’re already so melancholic, I don’t think Euphrosyne could take it.”

The mentioned Charity whimpered dramatically, then giggled at her own show.

“Melancholia is not the same as tranquility,” Pasithea replied simply.

“Lovesickness is so terribly bittersweet,” Aphrodite breathed, likely not paying attention to any of them too much. “What’s he like, then? I’ve never had occasion to meet him. You, Aglaea? Girls?”

“No, my lady,” the goddess of splendor returned. The other two older Charities voiced the same.

Pasithea thought carefully for a moment, her thumb stroking over the smooth parchment in her pocket. “He falls asleep a lot.” A wry smirk graced her features.

Euphrosyne laughed, the loud sound pleasant and ringing, and the other two chuckled lowly. Even Aphrodite wasn’t immune to Pasithea’s humour or Euphrosyne’s natural abilities, and she cracked a wider, characteristically beauteous smile.

“But seriously, Thea; what’s he like? How’d you meet? You never did actually tell us,” Thalia pressed in interest.

Pasithea was a master of thinking on her feet, but even she had a hard time trying to come up with an explanation that didn’t reveal her small trip to the Underworld. She may have only sworn to keep Persephone a secret, but it was easier to just keep everything out entirely. “His twin brother, Thanatos, introduced us during the war. We’re all gods of the poppy flower, you know. Sometimes mortals bring us together one way or another.”

“How mysterious,” Aphrodite said, delighted by the narrative.

“How gloomy,” Thalia quipped. Aglaea shot her a little glare.

“Thanatos is like me. Quiet. Calm. Perhaps more overworked than me,” Pasithea relayed carefully, trying to focus more on the characters of her tale than the setting and circumstances. “Hypnos is the opposite. When he’s not sleeping, he talks. His voice is like Thalia’s at a party, quick and chirping, like birdsong. We talk about dreams and how funny mortals are. He tells me about the spirits in the Underworld and the Lady Night, his mother.”

“Not that all of this isn’t painfully romantic,” Aglaea cut in, “but is the man at least handsome?”

Pasithea blinked slowly, like an owl or a cat. “ _I_ think he is.”

“That is not inspiring me with confidence, sister.”

“Now, now, darlings, beauty comes in all shapes and manners. Give me a vivid description, Pasithea,” Aphrodite encouraged sweetly. “You said he and Thanatos are twins, correct?”

“Not identical,” Pasithea corrected. “Hypnos is long and lean, deathly pale. He has white hair like his brother, but its short and curly, like cotton.”

“Is there any other kind of pale other than ‘deathly’ for a Chthonic god?” Thalia speculated aloud, prompting another little giggle from Euphrosyne.

“As handsome a man as I’ve ever seen while looking incredibly drowsy,” Pasithea finished, shrugging a little. She’d never considered having to evaluate Hypnos’ looks in such a matter. To her, he was just _comfort, familiarity,_ and _naps._ He was that feeling of contentment she wrote to him about, the kind a god felt when they rested even when they had no physical reason to.

“I’m pretty sure that’s his whole…area…” Euphrosyne offered. “So, I guess, that’s good! I’m happy for you, Thea.”

“For once, I think I agree with Hera’s arrangement,” Aphrodite conceded with a pleased expression. “If it helps, I think this love is the kind that stays. And that’s my professional opinion.”

Pasithea reasoned that she shouldn’t doubt Aphrodite’s instincts. Surely her lady was mistaken. But in matters of the heart, Aphrodite rarely made mistakes. But it didn’t matter; she wouldn’t see Hypnos again for years. Not until the lady of her house would become involved in the young Prince Zagreus’ attempts to leave the domain he was born to. Not until nine Olympians would piece together an invitation orchestrated by Queen Persephone, herself. All the Olympians were invited, and Dionysus was too thrilled by the occasion to not have Aphrodite bring her precious Charities along.

For the second time in her life, Pasithea was _nervous._ They were to only be background noise to the whole affair, for this was a family matter about reuniting the Underworld with its brethren. Still, they were daughters of Zeus, cousins to Prince Zagreus, and possibly the most wonderful ornament to any immortal party. Aglaea braided and pinned her hair up into rose-like buns on her head and had them all dress in stark white chitons with gold embroidered olive branches along every seam and twisted gold tie fastening. Thalia’s shorter ringlets of red hair were bouncing with her joy, Euphrosyne’s smile and crinkled eyes were gleaming.

Then there was the beguiling, relaxing Pasithea. Her freckles the easiest to get lost in, her eyes the largest and most enrapturing. She gathered all her hair into one loose, causal braid over her shoulder, laced it with sprigs of lavender, and set off behind them, keeping her head high and expression soft even as she impatiently searched for her dear friend. Only Aphrodite seemed to catch the feelings threatening to pull at Pasithea’s strings, but she only gave her maiden a little wink before they entered the House of Hades with the other major gods ahead of them.

The house was in even finer a splendor than she remembered. Aglaea must’ve been absolutely tickled pink, despite previously thinking very little of the gothic aesthetic. The lounge was decked out to serve the large party of gods and goddesses, and there was room to spare in the long halls and garden for mingling and social circles. After staying torturously silent during Persephone’s speech and subsequent reconciliation with the major gods, Thalia and Dionysus finally had their moment to flood the house with revelry and celebration, their combined might almost too much to handle. Pasithea’s presence was probably the only thing keeping the crowd civil until everyone had eased into socialization.

Prince Zagreus was joined at the hip with Thanatos, and they were often seen with the intimidating and beautiful Fury Megaera. When the two gods were alone, Pasithea took it as her moment to greet her friend. Thanatos seemed relieved by her presence, as was the case with most introverted gods like Artemis. The latter was currently mooning over Achilles.

“ _Blood and darkness,_ I’m glad you’re here to keep a lid on things,” Thanatos sighed.

Pasithea smiled pleasantly as she took a spot next to him by the wall, opposite to Zagreus. The younger god seemed very intrigued by her, but he was intrigued by most of them. “There’s only so much I can do with my sisters and my half-brother Dionysus in the same room.”

Zagreus brows rose at that. “Half-brother…you’re a cousin of mine, are you not?”

“Zag, you have so many cousins,” Thanatos told him flatly, though there was an endearing tone to the way he addressed his lover.

“He’s right,” Pasithea agreed, adjusting her chiton a bit to sit more comfortably. “There’s a lot of us. It’s wonderful to meet you, all the same, Prince Zagreus. Aphrodite has had nothing occupying her time more of late than your exploits. She was very pleased to confirm her suspicions that you are very handsome.”

“What a compliment, coming from the Lady Aphrodite. I can only hope she doesn’t decide to play her love games with me,” Zagreus muttered lowly, more humour than there was concern.

“She respects the poetic nature of your relationship with Thanatos too much for that. It seems gods of the poppy have a knack for that sort of thing.”

“Beg your pardon? Gods of the…poppy? As in, the flower?”

Pasithea nodded, but it was Thanatos who added: “Pasithea, Hypnos, and I. Mortals use the poppy as a symbol for us, usually.”

“Do you not know much about flowers, Zagreus? Despite your mother being Persephone?” Pasithea asked.

“He’s never been a good study,” Thanatos returned, sipping on some ambrosia liquor.

“Heh, not with plant stuff, that’s for sure. I’m trying to learn, for mother,” Zagreus mused, his voice low and smooth. His manner was poised, but casual and engaging. Pasithea decided that she liked him very much. “What does the poppy flower have to do with the goddess of relaxation, the god of sleep, and Death Incarnate?”

“When mortals consume a concentration of the seeds of the poppy, they grow relaxed and their senses dull. It slows how they perceive pain,” Pasithea relayed, her eyes scanning the room for her betrothed. It had been some time since the festivities started, and yet she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him. Surely his voice would carry over if she sharpened her hearing a little more. “Even more of it and they will fall asleep. More of it still and—”

“They die,” Thanatos finished grimly.

“Wow. All from a little flower?”

Pasithea nodded. “Nature is as terrific as it is beautiful.”

“And mortals are very fragile,” the death god added. “Speaking of Hypnos, I’m surprised you haven’t disappeared with him yet.”

Pasithea blinked steadily. “Can’t find him.”

“Probably snoozing somewhere,” Zagreus chuckled fondly. “Wait, I feel like I’m missing something here…you’ve all met before, haven’t you?”

A grin broke out on Pasithea’s face. “Yes. Before you were born, during the Trojan War.”

“ _Ugh,_ ” Thanatos grumbled. “Don’t mention it in front of the others; they’ll start fighting.”

“I sometimes see Thanatos when I’m calming mortals in their last moments of life,” Pasithea told a very fascinated Zagreus.

He ran a hand through his always-ruffled black hair. “Was my mother here yet?” She simply nodded. “So many secrets I’m uncovering lately.”

“It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” Thanatos sighed. “Pasithea was in a rough spot, I stuck my neck out for her, she was here for a little while, and she left. Hit it off enough with Hypnos to get betrothed a couple months later.”

“Hypnos is _betrothed?!_ ” Zagreus hissed aggressively, trying not to be heard over the considerable murmur of conversation throughout the room.

Pasithea rose a finger up to her lips to hush him gently. “Between us,” she whispered, leaning in in front of Thanatos, who continued to sip his drink dutifully. Zagreus was burning with curiosity, to the point where she could’ve sworn the glow from his ember-bright feet grew warmer. “Hypnos did it so Zeus couldn’t trade me off. We’ve been engaged for decades. It’s a long story.”

“I think I summed it up well enough,” Thanatos muttered.

“Do you…do you love him?” Zagreus asked, one brow raised in almost disbelief. Pasithea flushed, but she didn’t change her ever-tranquil expression.

Thanatos scowled. “Zag, don’t stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

“Hey! This is your twin brother we’re talking about. Don’t you want him to be happy?”

Pasithea tilted her head. “It was something we agreed on. He wanted to protect me and let me love whoever I want.”

“Sounds like he loves _you_ ,” Zagreus remarked innocently, a delighted little smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I’ve never known Hypnos to have the forethought or gumption to pull something like that off.”

“He _does_ care for you,” Thanatos admitted, also starting to smirk. Pasithea felt as though she was being ganged up on. “He cares enough that he was willing to put your safety and feelings before his own. See, what Zagreus here doesn’t understand is that by telling you this, you are now pressured to reciprocate even though this arranged marriage was mutually beneficial.”

Zagreus’ face fell slightly as he realized what Thanatos was getting at. “I do…sometimes mess things up.”

“He also gets it right most of the time,” Thanatos continued, making his lover perk up with a smile. “Hypnos only wants you to be yourself. Go talk to him. I think decades of letters is more than enough to start a conversation.”

“You wrote _letters_?” Zagreus hissed again. “That’s—oh, that’s adorable, mate.”

Pasithea stood up abruptly. “I’ll go find him.”

Once she disappeared into the crowd of bustling and chatting gods, Thanatos gave Zagreus a gold sidelong look and a smirk. “You made her nervous.”

“If the literal goddess of relaxation can get flustered from her feelings over _Hypnos_ , he better worship the ground she walks on,” Zagreus said.

“Shame you never saw his face when I passed off one of her letters.”


	5. A Word Over Ambrosia/The Spring of the Lethe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pasithea is in denial, now served with extra fluff

The ambrosia was flowing well in the party, some provided by the hosts and others brought from Olympus. Pasithea didn’t often get the chance to indulge in such luxuries, but she wasn’t as eager to partake as her sisters or Dionysus was. Contrary to some belief, drunkenness was not part of her domain, it was part of her half-brother’s, but she did enjoy a warm buzz from the liquor of the gods once in a while. Holding the neck of a square-shaped crystal bottle of the stuff in one hand and two small cylinder glass vessels in the palm of the other, Pasithea exited the lounge in search of her friend.

As she drew further away from the crowd in the east side of the house and garden, peering down the high-ceiling hallways of fine paintings and sculptures, the lively conversations lulled to a distant and rhythmic murmur. Disappointment greeted her at every corner, as it seemed Hypnos was nowhere to be seen. The cold stone floor against her feet caused a hollow echo to resound through the large room in which Lord Hades’ held his court. She could now hear the liquid stream of the Styx pouring out in the Pool at the end of the main hall, the heavy smell of blood something you could almost taste on the air. A shifting movement caught her wandering eye.

There was a rather long and wide daybed precisely in the spot she recalled Hypnos maintained his post. It was a mellow orange colour with plush upholstery and luxurious stitching set right up against the wall on the corner leading to the west hall, a comfortable distance from the cozy heat of the large fireplace now embedded in the west-side wall. She was certain that was not there before. In fact, many things about the house were not at all the same, and given Lord Hades’ disposition and stubbornness, she could only guess that it had something to do with Zagreus.

Her heart skipped a beat from the sight of a person-sized mass covered in a red quilt, a couple small gold shoulder ornaments sticking out from the lumpy shape. Padding over as gently as she could, Pasithea slid into the only spare space on the lounging daybed and placed the bottle of ambrosia and glasses securely on the floor at the foot of the furniture. Leaning over a bit and steadying herself with her palms against the incredibly comfortable cushion, her heart melted with fondness at the face she recognized.

Hypnos was lying lengthwise along the sofa, curling in towards the wall while clutching his quilt cloak in towards himself in comfort. His robes nearly blended right into the fabric of the few cushions belonging to the set, but his head of unkempt, cotton-fluff white hair stuck out starkly from the sunset colours. He was completely unconscious, to the point where she was genuinely surprised that he wasn’t floating while sleeping like he usually did. Perhaps he was just extra fatigued from the preparations leading up to the party, or he was looking for more physical reassurance to support his snoozing.

Pasithea reached down with her pale, freckled fingers and tenderly set aside one of his more unruly curls away from his eyes. He’d neglected to use his eye mask; it instead remained strapped securely to the top of his head, revealing his white lashes sealed closed. As she recalled, he normally smiled as he slept, just a little. A pang of concern and curiosity rang through her at the notion that he wasn’t as happy as he used to be, but perhaps it was just another symptom of his party-planning effort. Every part of her wanted to wake him so they could finally talk again, but she didn’t dare disturb his slumber just yet.

Hypnos mumbled incoherently and buried his nose down into the folds of his quilt, and Pasithea sighed, feeling even more at peace than she had in many years. It seemed like everything was working itself out, and she slouched a little more casually, her head tilted and legs swinging gently back and forth from the height of the seat. The sound of her wistful exhalation made him twitch, and she decided that this was the time to break the silence. Leaning a bit further, she curled her body over his and ran her palm up from his elbow to the shoulder as tenderly as she could manage.

Waking Hypnos was often a rather sudden affair. He’d jolt like he was in trouble, and then automatically flash that wide white smile without a care in the world. This time, he just flinched from the contact a bit and peeled his eyes half-open, gold irises sliding to find the source of the disturbance. A lazy little grin had begun, but then he recognized her. Brows raising, his face grew slack in an expression of disbelief Pasithea had never seen on him. It was a delightful thing to witness, but she began moving away to give him space in case she’d accidently overwhelmed him.

He snatched her wrist before she could completely pull away, perhaps just from shock or to reassure himself that she was actually there. After all, to hallucinate about Pasithea wouldn’t be completely out of character for either of them. Pasithea blinked rapidly as Hypnos alighted off the sofa and threw his arms around her waist with a bright ‘ _Thea!_ ’, squeezing her tight. Their heads fell into place side-by-side, and as Pasithea wrapped her arms high around his shoulders she realized that he’d pulled her up into floating _with him._ They hovered above the seat with the utter elation they were feeling to see each other again at last.

Hypnos rested his forehead against the bend of her neck and shoulder, letting out a long, dramatic sigh and smiling into her collarbone. “I missed you _so_ much. I never thought I could miss anyone quite so much.”

Pasithea laughed, light and airy, a blush spreading up to her cheeks. He was so warm. “I missed you, too. You’re acting like I wouldn’t come to see you. We agreed to have a napping party, don’t you remember?”

He giggled, voice high and filled with childish abandon. The blush had spread to her ears, now. “Heh, I’d never forget such an important engagement. Thanks for always waking me up at the right time.” He pulled back to look at her, his face equally flushed with a slightly darker blue colouring than that which tinted his cold-looking ears and nose. It was strange how someone who appeared frostbitten could actually be such a furnace up close. Suddenly he looked down. “Oh. Sorry about that.” They gently drifted back down next to the daybed.

Pasithea blinked, looking up at him from a couple inches below, as they settled on the floor. She shifted her arms from behind his neck to around his waist, tucking his quilt around them both comfortably. He naturally shifted to wrap it around them with his arms, cocooning them in the spot. “I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you touch the ground,” she remarked with a small, toothless smirk of amusement.

“Really? I could’ve sworn I’d done that the last time you were here. Huh, maybe not. But you know, it’s so comfy up in the air, and why even bother walking on the floor at all if you can help it?” Pasithea started smiling even wider as he talked, making his rapid speech slow at he gave her a look of bewilderment. “What, something on my face?”

“No,” she said, her delight betraying her in the tone. “I just…missed this. I didn’t realize how much until now.”

“Heh. Seeing you be so happy when I talk makes me think I’ve got something really good to say,” he replied, his returning smile slightly smug.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t let it go to your head,” she teased back. They were now nearly nose-to-nose speaking to one another, but she was too caught up in all of it to really notice anything too closely. All she could think about was how wonderful it was to link her hands around his slender waist and hips. “Nice to know just exactly how much taller you are than me.”

Hypnos seemed to be preoccupied with counting her freckles, her bewildering aura already affecting him. He didn’t mind one bit. They truly were a feedback loop, as she was also starting to grow drowsy. Everything about him just sang _safe_ to her.

A particularly loud chorus of laughter sprang from the crowd at the other side of the house, breaking the trance. They both startled a little, tensing in each other’s arms before relaxing again with a note of embarrassment. The sound was dominantly made from her sister Euphrosyne and Dionysus.

“Y-You’re here for the party, right? You should go back. What’s a party without all the Charities there?” Hypnos offered, clearly a little pained at the thought of letting her go despite his cheery tone.

Pasithea settled the side of her head against his shoulder with her face turned inward towards the center of his body and yawned quietly. “They’ll manage without me. You promised me a nap. Don’t try to slither out of it.”

His voice was still high-pitched, but much quieter now. “Sounds like the perfect job for me. We could split that ambrosia and drift right off, no problem.”

“Here?” Pasithea asked, breaking through his quilted cocoon to retrieve the crystal bottle and glasses. When she turned back around, she caught him staring and tilted her head inquisitively.

“Uh, no! N-Not here. I’ve got this nice place—here, let me just show you.” He pulled the bottle from her grasp and offered his other hand between them, his long, thin fingers extending towards her. He sported one of his signature wide smiles, this time encouraging.

As soon as her fingers laced with his, the world around them shifted into something completely new. The stagnant air of the House of Hades was replaced with the steady sweet breeze of the domain Elysium, a flat plain of lush grass and moss stretching out before them. The spring of the Lethe, river of forgetfulness, bubbled from a column of white marble and sigils and rolled out in billows of clean vapour. Bright red poppy flowers scattered across the wide field, the crown jewel of other pretty little wildflowers laced throughout. It was an odd place in perpetual dusk, the sky appearing to have both a setting sun and a rising moon, one half dotted with twilight stars. There were no shades standing about, and no sound but the light wind against the flora and the whispers of the river.

“ _Wow_ ,” Pasithea breathed, dumbstruck. “What part of Elysium is this?”

Hypnos smirked brightly again, almost proud. “This is where I was born. It’s my home. Than’s is nearby, but he doesn’t visit it much. When I get a break, I like to come here to sleep, of course. Figured it would be the perfect place to have our napping party!”

Pasithea immediately crouched to the ground, placing the drinking glasses down before sprawling out on the grass, careful to not crush any of the large flowers nearby. She stretched her arms up high above her head and sighed in contentment, smiling up at him. Hypnos’ grin had faded a little in his wonderment at watching her. Led along by her enthralling actions, he did the same, lying down next to her to stare at the eventide sky.

“I didn’t know you could teleport,” she started after a few long moments of comfortable, mutual silence.

“Than’s much better at it than me, but I can always find my way back home. Once, I accidently did it in my sleep. Lord Hades was so mad I abandoned my post on the job, but it really wasn’t my fault. Of course, I’ve made sure not to do it again. No more dreaming about teleporting,” he relayed, his voice still quiet and growing sleepier. “But things are so much better around the house since the last time you were here. I would’ve told you about Zagreus, but we were forbidden to. Ever since he started trying to escape, he’s been refurnishing the house, helped patch things up between the king and queen, got me that little napping bed you saw! And he always pops back up in the Pool of Styx and says hi to me after he dies in some horrible way.”

Pasithea listened carefully, realizing that there were details there that didn’t completely line up with the Queen of the Underworld’s story to her family over dinner. Perhaps that was something she’d eventually become privy to as time went on. “Zagreus seems to have a close relationship with many in the house. He’s the friendly sort. Surely he got it from Queen Persephone.”

Hypnos nodded, humming in thought a bit. “Yeah, he loves just helping people. He asked Than to be a little nicer to me, and just after that I finally figured out how to best stay organized. Turns out doodling on the edges of documents can be really useful if you do it in a particular order.”

Pasithea chuckled, her voice feathery and smooth as she turned her head to peer at him through the flower stems. “You’ve always had a gift for calligraphy; it was one of the first things I noticed about you and one of the reasons I wanted to write letters. I’m glad you have a way to apply it more now.”

“I’ve finally caught up on all my responsibilities, and even mom—I mean, Mother—was a little impressed. She’s quite hard to impress.”

“I suspect that it is challenging to have twins that are extraordinary in incredibly different ways,” Pasithea surmised, fiddling with the end of her braid to occupy her idle hands, her big hazel eyes watching an Underworld star to her right twinkle.

“Huh, I never thought about it that way! You’ve really got a point, there, Thea.” Hypnos paused. “I told Zagreus that he’s my best friend, but he’s different from the kind of best friend that you are.”

Pasithea’s fingers twitched against her hair fastening, a bit of colour returning to her face. Her voice was low and meek as she asked, “What kind of best friend am I?”

He hummed again, this time longer and more thoughtful. It seemed like he was carefully choosing his next words, which was a rare thing for him. “Well, I guess I could compare it to Than and Zagreus. They were always sort of linked, magnetized. Sometimes they were like oil and water, but they were perfect compliments, Fated opposites.”

Pasithea’s brows rose a little at Hypnos’ compelling words. “I suppose to say that our divine powers compliment each other would be rather logical,” she admitted. Zagreus and Thanatos were more than just connected, they were almost perfectly matched lovers. She’d heard Lady Aphrodite say as much to her and her sisters at one point during the early hours of the party. Was that what Hypnos was trying to get at? She was simultaneously thrilled and overwhelmed by the idea. She never showed it, but that foreign and unusual sensation of being _nervous_ struck her deeply.

The goddess sat up before Hypnos could reply, popping open the seal on the bottle of ambrosia and pouring him a portion. He perked up and sat cross-legged, thanking her for the offer as she gave herself an equal section of the liquor. She sipped it gently, sampling its flavour, and hummed peacefully. It was like a bouquet of flowers and coloured honey, the burn almost unnoticeable as the warmth of its vintage slid down her throat. What mortals had in alcohol the gods indulged in this, though the effects were slightly different. Despite it being Dionysus’ domain, Pasithea was still very much connected to ideas of the suppression of inhibition that ambrosia offered.

She shifted closer to Hypnos, favouring one side of her hips and propping herself up on her hand in the grass, as if leaning in to share a secret despite them being completely alone. Hypnos swallowed a mouthful and blinked at her in anticipation. It bothered him that she was avoiding looking at his face.

“There’s something we should discuss,” she began, taking in a breath to regain her centre of being. _Be still,_ she thought to herself, neglecting to notice how Hypnos visibly relaxed under the power’s influence. “I think it’ll do us both some good to settle this before our nap.”

“Heh. I sleep well regardless, but I can understand how you’d want to put stuff to bed before getting some shut-eye,” he mused. He was proud that he managed to make her smile with that one.

She looked over at her sandaled feet next to his bare ones, moving them slowly back and forth, side-by-side. “Now that Olympus and the Underworld have made up, there are no longer any restrictions regarding my transfer to the House of Hades. Aphrodite and my sisters are expecting me to marry you, and I’m certain that it will not slip Hera’s notice if we don’t address it soon.”

Hypnos audibly gulped. “R-Right. I guess we have to follow through on the ruse.”

Pasithea nodded slightly in assent. “That’s not…that’s not terrible to you, is it? We can carry on exactly how everything has been. Everyone in the House of Hades seems easy to be around, and I’m certain they would respect the nature of our arrangement. You can have whatever lovers you want and—”

“Thea,” Hypnos called to her quietly, breaking her from her tangled strings of thought. She looked up at him, remembering where they were: this beautiful field in Elysium, next to the beginning of the Lethe. “Have you ever had anyone tell _you_ to relax? It just occurred to me, that’s probably never happened to you, right?”

She smoothed over a fold in her long white chiton. “No.”

Hypnos picked out a loose lock of hair that had fallen from her braid and curled it back behind her ear. When Pasithea leaned into the contact, he suddenly drew back, looking startled. Then he cracked an awkward smile. “Heh, sorry. Um, I—I don’t think it’s terrible. We definitely don’t want Hera coming after us, but…Thea, what is it that _you_ want? If you—if you have a lover,” he eyes flickered to the side with an adjunct thought for a moment before continuing, “you can just marry them instead.”

“What? No,” Pasithea returned quickly, her expression turning a little stern. She never had hard or mean looks, but she could show her displeasure all the same. “There’s…no one. You?”

“Me? Uh, no. Megaera was into me, but I kept her at an arms length. Too much for me, y’know?” he said casually, finishing what was in his glass. He still smirked at the memory, and Pasithea was just confused. It was very difficult to imagine the Fury Megaera interested in the dozing Hypnos. She wasn’t certain if she was jealous or just in disbelief. Wait, _jealousy?_

“You did something amazing for me during the Trojan War,” Pasithea explained. “The mortals have their men choose their women, and so do some of the gods. Women are gifts, bribes, objects. My sisters and I don’t have a lot of power, and we’ve seen what a vulnerability it is to be a maiden. Artemis, Athena, Hestia, Hecate…they are all terror-inspiring goddesses who can protect themselves, but there was nothing stopping my father from using us as good favours to whomever he pleased. You could have had _anyone_ , or no one, when Hera gave you that offer. And you decided to ask for _me_.”

Hypnos listened silently, their regular dynamic reversed as she said more at once than he’d ever heard. When she’d finished, he thought carefully for a moment, and they watched the flowers for a while. She swirled the golden ambrosia in her glass, and Hypnos set his aside to lean back on his elbows. Her knees drew up in towards herself, as if she wanted to grow even smaller. “I think the goddess of relaxation is pretty powerful,” he said finally, simply.

At first, nothing. No movement, no sound. And then she slowly twisted around, eyes dancing with the smile spread wide on her face. “Perhaps the Fates intended for all this. Gods of the poppy have to stick together, right? Maybe Zagreus is one of us, too.”

“You know, I don’t think we ever figured out what Zagreus is the god of,” Hypnos said with a little laugh. He was back to grinning right along with her, all the tension falling away. “Maybe he is! Mortals can be funny about what sort of symbols they put to us.”

“Mortals are endlessly strange, that is for certain,” Pasithea sighed, throwing back what was left in her glass and stretching out in the grass again. She arched her back with a small noise of relief, her chiton drawing tighter across her torso, and Hypnos flushed a little. Her aura returned to normal, if not even more at peace, and that wonderful numbing ease she radiated washed over him again. The woman could make mortals stop crying, resolve bickering, and soften even the foulest of tempers, and yet she thought she wasn’t powerful. They were close enough that he could admire her freckles again, especially fond of the ones on the little gaps of exposed skin of her shoulders between the fastens of her loose sleeves. “So, what’s the plan? Nap in the grass? I’m quite comfortable.”

Hypnos giggled at the notion. “Nah, of course not. I almost feel offended by that, Thea!”

She smirked. “Oh, I’d never wish to offend you, _beloved,_ ” she teased. Despite her obviously sarcastic emphasis on the word, his breath still hitched a little.

“Ah, um, anyway. Only a bed for the best naps with the god of sleep,” he announced with cheer.

Pasithea rose a brow. “What bed?”

Hypnos didn’t even look back as he gestured vaguely behind them. “That one.”

She poised upwards and craned her neck. A bed fit for two or more made from dark polished wood and bright linens was a short distance away, standing immaculately in in grass. The sheets were dyed black with a plush, crimson comforter on top. The stitching was an even diamond pattern like his cape, but the shimmering thread worked in small symmetrical poppy medallions into each square. Black and red pillows piled up at the head, also accented with gold.

Pasithea gave him a wide-eyed look, and he just shrugged it off. “Hey, I told you I was born here. It just does that.”

She didn’t care to shatter the suspension of disbelief, keeping herself in delighted ignorance by saying nothing and lifting up off the ground to head towards the bed. It looked incredibly inviting, to his credit, and she didn’t hesitate to begin undoing her braid and picking out the sprigs of lavender laced into it. Hypnos pushed off his cloak, not minding to haplessly discard it onto the field where he would find them hours from now. Next came his mismatched armbands, and Pasithea paused as she climbed between the mattress and the blankets to look at him. He took off the solid gorget plating about his neck and collarbones and any other little bits attached to him until it was just the red robe and solid waistband. She’d seen his arms bare from the rare occasion that he had to reach out far from under his cloak, but a bare neck was a new thing. Still, in much simpler attire, it became even more apparent how lithe and lanky he was.

Pasithea unlaced her sandals before slipping completely under the covers, giving Hypnos a little smile of encouragement. He seemed sort of self-conscious without his quilt or jewelry, but Pasithea was a Charity, and even the indulgent Aglaea preferred simpler things when it came to more casual aspects of their lives. As soon as he was lying next to her, she pulled the covers up over her shoulders, held the edge right up to her nose, and yawned. Hypnos laughed.

“Aw, that’s the cutest yawn I’ve ever seen! And I’ve seen a lot of them,” he told her as he got settled just a few inches across from her.

“I think that’s the highest compliment I’ve ever received,” Pasithea chuckled, her eyes growing heavy and that distinctly drowsy warmth spreading to her fingers. Or perhaps it was just the ambrosia. Either way, utter bliss began to settle into her as she faced him in bed. It occurred to Pasithea, as her senses dulled and breathing slowed, that it felt like home. All the misplaced sighs while reading the letters, working and celebrating with mortals alongside her sisters but still slightly out of place, even after reconciling with Ares and being saved from a potential unwanted arranged marriage: it all fell into place.

Hypnos felt like _home_.

For the first time in his life, someone fell asleep before him. Hypnos knew she was out, and he wanted to follow suit, but something was keeping him holding on for just a moment longer. Maybe it was her completely tranquil expression, her long slack-jawed face and pretty freckles and the thick trails of silky auburn hair spilling out from her head in no particular fashion. His feelings of love only locked into place upon seeing her again after all these years. At a distance, it was easier to ignore or at least put into the back of his mind, but now, he positively _ached_. He knew he was sensitive, his mother and brother had no qualms about telling him so, but when she spoke of them still being able to take on separate lovers and thinking he would find it terrible to marry her—it almost brought him to tears.

_That’s right._ They’d come to a semblance of an agreement. She was to be his _wife._ But she didn’t love him, nor did she seem to love anyone, by her own admission. Surely someone as straight-forward and calm as Pasithea would tell him, would she not? After all, it would be a good thing to love the person you were going to marry. But she hadn’t. And it didn’t matter since she was staying anyways. She’d become a Chthonic god transitively, and he was free to see her all they liked. It should’ve been enough.

But it _wasn’t_.


	6. Waking Up/The God of Something

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a make-out session here? It is a little heavy but SFW.

However long they slept, they’d have to wake eventually. The celebrations between the Olympians and those in the Underworld was likely to stretch on for however long Dionysus and the other Charities could manage, or however long the others could tolerate. Regardless, it was the first time in a while that Hypnos could sleep without having to think about when his next shift was. The dead could wait, for now. Pasithea was the first to rouse, gradually, each of her earthly senses coming around in their own manner until everything lined up with reality. She’d been dreaming of him, vaguely, but couldn’t recall exactly what had transpired in her mind. Breathing deeply, she recognized the scent of fresh wind and earth that Elysium simulated for its residents. The Lethe smelled like mist from a waterfall, and Hypnos smelled faintly of the blood from the Pool of Styx.

They were still facing one another, but Hypnos had shifted enough to have an arm over her just below her shoulders. His hair was even more fluffy and unkempt, he snored very lightly, and he was drooling just a bit, but she found it rather adorable. She circled both arms around his waist, threading between the give of the mattress and his side to manage it without disturbing him too much, running her palms up his back in a long, gentle motion as she drew closer. The corners of Hypnos’ mouth turned upwards, he rubbed his face into the pillow in a self-comforting gesture, and then hummed at her contact in his sleep. With the close proximity, her head now tucked under his chin, Pasithea couldn’t resist; she pressed a lazy soft kiss into his exposed neck.

“How have I ever woken up any other way?” Hypnos whispered rhetorically, the high tenor of his voice soft and cracking a little from just being pulled from slumber. With the hand he’d placed around her in their sleep, he combed through some of her hair as she drew back to look at him. His sleeping mask was askew, and he gave her that lopsided, boyish smirk she loved. She watched him with her bewildering, hypnotic look, her freckles matching the stars in half the sky above them. He held her waist, observed how the softness and curves of her were perfectly opposite to his wiry, thin frame.

Then, something he never thought would happen. She reached up from within their layers of warm blankets and stroked the backs of her knuckles along his jaw. His expression grew slack, and she stretched her slender neck and tilted her head to the side to kiss him. It wasn’t exactly passionate in the typical way, but neither Hypnos nor Pasithea were known for incredibly intense gestures of emotion. It was breathtaking for him, in that he may have forgotten to breathe, as the kiss lingered with its tenderness and sleepy abandon. When she pulled away, her eyes reopening to regard his reaction, Hypnos hiccupped. It was embarrassing, but at least it made her laugh.

Instead of apologizing or making an excuse, he decided it was just better to continue whatever it was that she started and kissed her back. This time he had the chance to close his eyes and enjoy it, scolding himself internally for nearly falling back asleep with just how blissful it was. Pasithea set a languid pace of successive kisses that let him take those forgotten breaths, usually changing location to either corner of his mouth. He couldn’t believe it—she was actively, happily kissing him! She linked a trail of little pecks down his jaw and neck, her freer arm moving her delicate fingers up from his shoulders, across his bare neck, to carding through the short white curls at the back of his head. The sensation ran a shiver along his spine, and he whined a little into the next kiss she planted on his mouth.

Pasithea pulled back just enough to let their eyes meet again, and he was surprised to find her expression tight with concern. Her brows met in a decidedly pleading gaze as she huffed a bit from the effort of being apart in that moment. “Marry me?” she asked, making his thoughts stutter to a halt.

“What?” he asked on reaction, completely confused. Before he could continue, she kissed him again, this time running the tip of her tongue along his upper lip. His fingertips dug into the soft flesh around her waist and hips. “But I thought we—” he was interrupted by another quick but eager peck. It was difficult to concentrate on speaking when so many very new things were happening very quickly. “I thought we already agreed—”

“No,” Pasithea replied, pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth again.

“No?”

“We agreed to get married because of all this nonsense with Zeus possibly selling me off and Hera coming after us if we don’t,” Pasithea sighed, a mixture of wistfulness and light irritation that Hypnos realized he _really_ liked coming from her lips. As if pained to keep from him for too long, she captured his mouth with hers for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn’t losing its appeal, that was for certain. “I _want_ you to marry me.”

“You _want_ to? Why?” he squeaked, his nerves alighting again when she skimmed the shell of his ear while brushing back a few of his curls.

“Because, _Fates be praised_ , I love you,” she confessed, her willowy voice more inflexed with the torturous admission.

Hypnos couldn’t really bring himself to say anything back. So, he kissed her, _hard._ It didn’t take much prodding to get her mouth open, and she hummed her delight against his tongue. To say he was inexperienced would be an understatement. Hypnos had never had a woman or a man in his bed, not even just to nap with. Even kissing was an entirely new situation for him, but he was willing to let it begin and end with Pasithea. Multiple lovers may have worked for mortals, or other gods, or his friend Zagreus, but he knew there was only one person he ever wanted sleeping next to him.

Hypnos’ tone was uncharacteristically dead serious as he gazed at his betrothed. She was flushed from the attention, all the way down to her neck and chest. Her eyes were wide open, alert and expectant. “I’m going to marry you, Thea,” he mumbled, almost embarrassed to work his way through it. “And I’m going to love you for as long as I live. Which, uh, will be a while. We’re immortal, after all.”

His break into his more usual, casual self made her grin and kiss him chastely. He was almost a little disappointed that she didn’t continue. She noticed. “Don’t be terribly put out, _beloved_.” Yes, he very much liked being called that. “We’ve got time.” Pasithea curled her head under his chin again, and they stayed like that for some time more, likely dozing off again for a bit before deciding to rejoin the outside world.

She returned to the House of Aphrodite for a time to prepare for their marriage but promised to visit periodically as the rituals went on. The House of Hades was more than happy to accommodate her now, as even Lord Hades himself acknowledged not only Pasithea’s usefulness in the occasional work she did for the Underworld, but also how she affected the feeling about the house. She’d come and sit by her betrothed nearby the Pool of Styx, keeping him on task and calming the shades that passed through their court. Once in a while she’d see Zagreus emerge, fresh off the job, and they spoke amicably. Even Thanatos and Nyx seemed to be fond of her, while Achilles was just pleased for everyone to be less high-strung every now and then. She and Megaera had a general respect for one another, and the Fury appreciated that the goddess kept Hypnos from being ‘slightly less obnoxious’.

After making the appropriate offerings to Hera and filing the oddly specific parchment work Hades required for Pasithea’s transferral to his house, she and Hypnos were married privately by the spring of the Lethe by the matriarch of Olympus herself. It was only right, the greater goddess insisted, since she was the one who arranged and sanctioned it in the first place. Neither Hypnos nor Pasithea were interested in making a fuss about the situation, but her sisters sent along what they called ‘housewarming’ gifts and knew that it wouldn’t be long before they all saw each other again. Half of Pasithea’s obligations were still on the surface, after all, and Charon was more than happy to ferry her frequently in schedule with his duties. Prince Zagreus was rather distressed that there wasn’t more of a celebration for the two but considering how the party with the Olympians was still fresh in their minds, everyone in the Underworld seemed content to simply pass on their congratulations and resume as usual.

During one of the days that Pasithea was working next to Hypnos by the Pool of Styx, she strode over to the administration chamber with one of his finished lists and a stack of documents Hades trusted her to manage. Zagreus was just on his way out when they met in the middle of the west hall, and he flagged her down with a gentle wave and a friendly smile. Pasithea smiled back, already used to his frequent little chats. Perhaps he was a little idle since Thanatos was out on the job. The shades milling about grew slightly quieter in her presence.

“Say, Thea, may I ask you a question?” Zagreus began, turning a bit so his green eye was facing her more than his red one. “It…might be personal, if that’s alright.”

Shifting her weight from one hip to the other while adjusting the parchment in her arms, the long dark chiton and cloak Pasithea wore in the Underworld flowed slightly with grace. The bright red thread of embroidered poppy flowers and elaborate borders along the hems of the cloak shimmered iridescently as she moved. She pulled a few loose strands of her auburn hair back across one shoulder. “Of course you may ask, though I may refrain from answering,” she replied simply, well-meaning. “Though, Zagreus, I’d rather you call me Pasithea. It’s more comfortable.”

His brows shot up in surprise and his mouth pulled to the side in a bit of remorse. “Oh, I’m sorry about that. I could’ve sworn I heard Hypnos call you that.”

She nodded softly. “Yes, Hypnos and my sisters call me that, but it’s a very special nickname for me. Sorry to break it to you, but you’ve not earned that privilege.”

Zagreus chuckled. “Ah, I see. It will be Pasithea until I hear otherwise, directly from you. A little while ago, I was speaking with Hypnos about the party with the other gods on Olympus and how I hadn’t managed to catch him there. He said he slept right through the whole thing. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Pasithea tilted her head with a downright mischievous smirk. “Why, Zagreus, whatever gave you that impression?”

He chuckled knowingly. “So, he was with you! I’m pleased that he at least got to, um, _enjoy_ himself.”

Pasithea had a funny way of not often revealing if she was embarrassed by her expression, but she certainly did blush. “We did actually sleep through the whole thing.”

Zagreus let out a little amused snort. “Honestly, that doesn’t surprise me at all, knowing him.”

“We also spoke about our relationship, made a few plans. I took what you said to me to heart,” Pasithea continued, quite open about the matter, though she didn’t go into damning detail.

The prince’s expression warmed significantly, seemingly very pleased to hear it. “You _do_ love him, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Pasithea replied immediately.

He shook his head with another casual smile, an air of disbelief about him. “I’m very happy for both of you. I just never imagined Hypnos being married, so it’s a little strange.”

“I can understand why you’d be given that impression. You’ve spent more time physically around him than I have,” Pasithea supposed. “May I ask you a question, now?”

Zagreus blinked at her curiously but agreed.

“No one told me what your domain was. Your divine domain, I mean. Hypnos says he doesn’t know what it is, and I didn’t really want to pry without asking you first.”

“Well, I appreciate that,” Zagreus began, sighing a little and rubbing the back of his neck absently. “I’m not the god of anything, really.”

“Every god is the god of something, Zagreus,” Pasithea returned.

Achilles piped up from his post nearby. “I tried to tell him that, too.” The two conversing gods looked back at him, and he offered a grim, slightly sheepish smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Or eavesdrop.”

Pasithea shook her head. “It’s alright, Achilles. We were speaking too loud for it to be eavesdropping.”

“You always put this shade at ease, goddess,” Achilles said, referring to himself.

Zagreus continued with his previous train of thought. “I’m telling you, I’m not the god of anything.”

“Even minor immortals have things they do. Things they are remembered for,” Pasithea insisted. She wasn’t being pushy, but she was determined to make her point.

“Mortals don’t even know about me.”

She laughed lightly, cheerfully. “Zagreus, you’re a young god. Even if you never meet a mortal on the surface, they will hear about you. You’re the Prince of the Underworld!”

“But I can’t do great things like the Olympians can,” Zagreus argued. “Nor can I do what Than or Hypnos or even my mother can do.”

Achilles spoke up again. “Are you serious, lad? You’ve got far more perseverance and focus than any other god I’ve had the pleasure to meet. An unrelenting stubbornness rival to that of your father. You never stop no matter how many times you’ve failed, always coming up from the Pool of Styx covered in blood. You are rebirth itself.”

Pasithea tilted her head again in thought. “The son of the god of the dead and the goddess of verdure…blood, rebirth…why, Zagreus!” she suddenly exclaimed. Pasithea was never loud, but her voice gained a sharper inflexion as she reached to lay a hand on his arm. Both Achilles and the prince were rather startled by her outburst. “Poppies! Mortals say poppies are the colour of blood. They lay them on graves not just for Thanatos, but also to hope for rebirth. You’re a god of the poppy, Zagreus!”

The young prince blinked, a little overwhelmed despite Pasithea not being particularly imposing. “Well, when you put it like that…” He chuckled, unable to resist the happy grin on her face. “Mother will be pleased that I’m associated with a flower, I’m sure.”

“I’ve got many cousins and half-siblings, Zagreus,” Pasithea offered, “but now you’re possibly my favourite.”

“Yet another connection I’ve got with Than, then,” he thought aloud. “I wonder what he’ll make of all this...” He trailed off, resuming his journey down the hall and into the courtroom, glowing embers hot on his heels.

Once he was gone, Achilles and Pasithea locked gazes in mutual amusement and he spoke to her quietly. “You’re very clever, goddess. I’d forgotten that mortal tradition until you mentioned it. Brought back memories.”

She gave him a tender look, already grown fond of the old warrior. “Not terrible ones, I hope?”

He hummed, leaning into his spear. “Some are of the loss. Not all. I’ve had many years to contemplate the sorrow in my life, and I am at peace with it to some degree.”

“Hypnos told me about how you visit Elysium. He’s more observant than people realize, I think. Still, if you ever need to ease your mind, know that I can help you.”

Achilles bowed his head a bit. “You honour me, goddess, but don’t trouble yourself over this old shade.”

“I was there, you know,” Pasithea told him. “During the war you fought in. I walked with the mortals for several years. Someday I shall tell you the whole story, but just know that I understand.”

With that, she left, disappearing behind the door of the administration chamber and leaving a rather astonished Achilles in her wake. After her parchment filing was finished, Pasithea returned to her post by her husband. He was floating leisurely above the end of his orange daybed, leaving enough space for her to take a poised seat on the plush furniture and dutifully watch the shades in the Lord Hades’ court. He was hearing appeals today, and droned denials and approvals from his throne behind the high desk. Queen Persephone was standing by the guard hound Cerberus, who had begun wagging his tail at her ear-scratches on his far-left head.

The procession line was moving along rather smoothly. Pasithea idly listened to the shades’ pleas and what sorts of things Hades accepted. He wasn’t completely heartless, that much could be seen from his interactions with Persephone and sometimes with Zagreus, but there was definitely an unmovable reputation he had to uphold. Once in a while, a shade would arrive who couldn’t be cheered up by Hypnos’ enthusiastic welcome, and Pasithea, not wanting for the spirit’s crying or sad moaning to disrupt Hades, would simply offer a calm look and say, “Everything will be alright, now.” They quieted right down and treated her with reverence.

Things were still at the Pool of Styx for a while, and Pasithea looked up at her sleeping spouse. The deep, rhythmic breathing and occasional soft snoring was a comfort to her now, but she took the opportunity to tug on his quilt for attention. He jolted, looking around for a shade or perhaps Zagreus come back from his escape inspections, but there was no one.

“Something wrong, Thea?” he asked, voice bright and smile wide at her.

Pasithea silently gave thanks to the Fates for all the good fortune in her life. They’d been kind, to weave such a life for her. “Just one thing, really. Come a little closer.”

Hypnos gave her a quizzical face, but did as she asked, floating down close enough to the daybed to be nearly sitting on it next to her. Pasithea straightened and extended her neck to kiss his cheek, and he giggled in surprise and delight, doing the same for her.

“No canoodling in my courtroom,” Hades scolded them, scowling as he rested his head in his hand with an elbow propped up on the desk. The two smartened up sharply, but Pasithea gave Hypnos another sidelong glance.

“Worth it,” she whispered, exchanging sly smirks.

“Oh, Hades, leave them be,” Persephone sighed, a slight smile in her voice. “Not everyone is as shy as you.”

Hades simply growled in displeasure at his wife’s teasing, but he didn’t raise a word against her. Pasithea considered that a win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the past couple years I've been spending a LOT of time on my fics, but this I consider just a little fun. Please let me know if you like it!


End file.
